


Xisuma's Bad Day

by VoidSuma



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other, Starvation, Why is there no tag for Stress and Ren?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidSuma/pseuds/VoidSuma
Summary: Xisuma is a derp with bad workaholic tendencies.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 119





	Xisuma's Bad Day

Today was not a good day. His head hurt, his body was heavy and the day cycle had just been reset. Xisuma sighed from the middle of his storage room, falling to his knees before he could make it toward his landing pad.

He couldn't explain why he felt suffocated. His thinly filtered air was normal. He couldn't explain why he felt hot. He was used to the heat of the jungle, his suit responding appropriately. He could feel the dizziness though, could see the red warnings on his visor and feel the damage his body was taking. However, for the life of him Xisuma couldn't figure out the issue. His body felt weaker and weaker. Then he suddenly blacked out.

Xisuma starved to death.

The chat erupted in confusion and concerns, the latter being more common for death messages. A few hermits agreeing to check spawn and the admin's base when they didn't get a response from him.

Xisuma sat in the void, a normally dangerous space but one he felt at peace in. No infinite falling, no visual on his scattered items as he puffed away in smoke. Just a place to rest and feel nothing. It wasn't quite like the end, no floating islands to slip between, no fruit to harvest from the trees, no endermen to chatter with. It was similar though. Thin air, black nothing.

Xisuma slowly removed his bee decorated helmet, taking in breaths that were for once, not too thick. The air wasn't suffocating, he didn't have to coop up in his suit. He should visit the end more. Floating along the darkness was nice.

It was shattered all too soon though, popping into the Overworld above their spawn island, helmet falling from his hands and hitting the ground with a pathetic thud before he too joined it.

Fluffy hair covered his face, hiding his scars, purple eyes and glowing freckles. The presence of a few hermits didn't suprise him but when he took in that first bit of air he could feel the tension as harsh coughing left him. He couldn't fucking breathe.

There was an attempt to rise but he simply fell, hermits rushing around him and he could feel two robotic arms on his sides holding him up. He saw a flash of yellow and red as he helmet was shoved onto him. He heard it click into place, his vision staring to clear as it was no longer blinded by the harsh overworld sun.

He looked through spider wed cracks on his visor, filtering system bringing in cool air and finally giving his poor lungs a break. He moved a gloved hand to his helmet, closing his eyes and pressing the filter closer to his mouth closer as if that would provide more of the thin air. 

As things settled he opened his eyes again. Doc and Iskall were at his sides, holding him firmly between the two. He could make out Tango in front of him, ruby red eyes bright in concern. Was that Stress behind him? Maybe Ren too. God his head hurt. Oh they were talking, were they talking to him?

He gave them a weak look of confusion before leaning into Doc's shoulder. He could hear the sound of an elytra and someone crashing onto the little spawn island. He could recognize Keralis any day, he smiled as he heard the small man talk a mile a minute, a flustered Mumbo and Scar attempting to answer him.

He could stay here a while longer.. the hermits were here. His vision went black yet again, long legs curling to his chest as he went limp.

When he rises again he feels sick, stomach burning and lungs on fire just the same. He recognized his base, the room around him one he worked some of his admin magic on, the chunk supporting end atmosphere. Fuck respawning. The admin thought as he curled into the soft blankets on his bed. Where the fuck was his helmet? He thought again as he relaxed a bit into the coolness of the white pillow against him.

Sometimes Xisuma wishes he was a player. For the most part, when a player respawns they get a clean slate, maybe a few aches and scars but being a voidwalker, his respawns were a bitch. He'd show up at his spawn, fall to the ground and lay there a while before typing his well being to the hermits. Spawning in a bed was nice, landing in soft sheets while his body throbbed in the pain of repairing itself. A particularly brutal death could leave him out for weeks. Falling in lava, being impaled, sometimes pvp deaths but those didn't hurt nearly as bad as creeper explosions.

His vision went blurry thinking about it. How did he die this time? He rattled his brain as best he could but he simply couldn't remember. Suffocation? That one wasn't too uncommon, a fair bit of damage to his helmet could fuck up the air filters until he poofed into a ball of smoke. His lungs burned like that but he had a feeling that wasn't quite right.

He groaned in defeat, flicking his wrist to pull up his admin screens and swipping towards the coms chat logs. He starved to death. Fucking great. No wonder his stomach felt like acid.

It was nice to see mention of Etho and Beef picking up his gear though, gathering netherite would've been another bitch of a thing to deal with. He closed his screens with a wave of his hand, attempting to rise from the soft bed before collasping. The injured voidwalker groaned at the pain in his chest and stomach.

He took in slow breaths of the cool end air around him, letting his sore body relax for a while. He lost track of time but he remembered watching Keralis enter, his doe eyed friend looking worried as ever from behind his black mask. The hand through his thick hair felt good, his body relaxing more than ever.

The bit of bread and rabbit stew smelt wonderful. He doesn't remember too much about consuming it but he for sure can remember protesting when Keralis hand fed him the soup. The brain fog was still heavy, words not registering and mouth not letting words exit but he didn't need that.

His hermits knew. Keralis knew. They would take care of him. Despite being the admin, creating worlds for them to live in. Despite being a creature, a voidwalker, able to destroy the same worlds he built if he felt like it. Despite being an absolute derp, his hermits were there. They'd remind him and they'd save him when something went wrong. 

He felt his vision black out for the final time after that event, tears flowing down his scarred purple freckled face and a little smile playing on his lips.

His hermits knew. His hermits loved him and that was all the comfort he needed to stay in the Overworld.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sucker for Xisuma angst. I remember Xisuma starving to death in one of Mumbo's videos a while back (trust me idk how either) so I vent wrote a fic about it-(it my cursing didn't show that) Feedback is appreciated probably gonna write more angsty things. I have big plans for X getting stabbed with a sword. (don't ask why)


End file.
